


Fred's midwife

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childbirth, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fred Weasley Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-11 02:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: When Angelina goes into labour at the flat above WWW, Fred ends up needing a midwife of his own...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a four-part (I think) story because I fancied doing something a bit different. Lovers of Fremione and the Weasleys can rest assured that this will not interrupt or affect its updates! Let me know what you think of this one!

Molly's patronus sounded urgent. “Hermione, darling, I’m hoping you’re free. We need you at Fred and George’s flat if you’re available. Angelina’s having the baby and I could do with your help.”

Within about thirty seconds, Hermione had put a stasis charm on the soup that had been bubbling on the stove, reached for her handbag and accio’d her medical bag from the hallway. She flooed to the flat above 93 Diagon Alley, fully expecting to be pulling on a pair of gloves and using her healer training to help Angelina through the birth of her and George’s first baby.

It turned out that wasn’t quite what Molly had in mind, though. 

When Hermione stepped out of the fireplace in the flat’s living room, it was to find Molly using her wand to tidy and clear it of dirty plates from the previous night’s takeaway dinner as her middle son paced restlessly up and down between his bedroom and the kitchen. Hermione gave Molly an enquiring look and the older witch rolled her eyes. She gave Hermione a quick hug before updating her on the situation.

“Angelina’s been having niggles since yesterday evening,” she whispered. “She and George managed really well together through the night, bless them, mostly by staying in bed and doing some breathing and back massage when she couldn’t sleep. Her labour has stepped up a bit now, but she’s still a way off having the little one, of course.”

“Aren’t her midwives available?” asked Hermione, wondering if perhaps another witch was also in labour. She couldn’t think of any other reason why Molly would have asked her to come over. Healers weren’t usually called if things were going well at a birth. The midwives were the experts here, and labour usually progressed more quickly if the woman was surrounded by a few people who she knew well.

“Oh yes,” Molly nodded vigorously. “Jane’s in there with them now, and Sally said she will come later. They both think we might be up through the night, so Sally’s resting up in preparation, I think.”

“Good idea,” said Hermione. It was completely normal for first babies to take a while, she knew, and a bit of self-care on the part of the birth team was never a bad thing, especially when it got to the later stages of a longer labour. “How can I help then, Molly?” She was a tad confused.

“I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Hermione, but no-one else is available, and I don’t know what to do with Fred.” She looked towards the man who was still pacing up and down restlessly.

“Hi Fred,” said Hermione. He nodded and lifted one hand in a wave but didn’t stop moving.

“I need to go back in. Angelina wants me there, with her own mum not with us and everything, but I can’t leave him here by himself like this. You've always been so good with him, dear… Could you see what you can do? He seems to need a midwife almost as much as Angelina does!”

“Of course I will,” Hermione patted Molly’s arm reassuringly and nodded towards George and Angelina’s bedroom. “Go back in. I’ll bring you all some tea as well.” 

When she turned back, Fred seemed to have disappeared into his bedroom, so Hermione wandered into the kitchen and began to line up mugs on the counter. She wondered – not for the first time – why the recently married couple hadn’t moved out of the flat when they learned that they were pregnant with their first baby, but suspected it had something to do with George not wanting to leave the twin that he had almost lost a few years back. George and Fred had always been close, but Fred’s near-death experience during the Battle of Hogwarts had rendered the twin Weasley brothers next to inseparable.

Just a few minutes later, Hermione tapped softly on George and Angelina's bedroom door and levitated a tray of tea-filled mugs and a plate of biscuits to a grateful Molly. “Just slip the tray out the door when you’re done and I’ll sort it,” she whispered. “And I’ll get some lunch on when the time comes, so don’t worry about any of that.”

“Thank you,” Molly patted her.

Hermione carried two mugs of tea into the living room and sat on the sofa. “Fred,” she said gently, looking in the direction of his bedroom door. “I’ve made you some tea?” Somehow, she made it a question, and it got him to appear in the doorway and look over at her. “Won’t you come and chat with me and tell me what’s going on for you?”

Fred crossed the room and stood in front of her, though he was clearly finding it hard to keep still. “I’m all jittery, Hermione” he shrugged, moving from one foot to the other. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Do you feel stressed?” Hermione asked him. 

Nod.

“About Angelina being in labour?”

Another nod.

“Can you tell me why?”

At that, he sat down, though Hermione doubted that he would stay put for long. Although his bottom was technically parked on the sofa, his hands and feet were now tapping independently of each other as if he was working an invisible drumkit. “I don’t exactly know. I’m quite excited. I can’t believe it’s happening and Georgie’s having a baby. I feel like it’s Christmas morning and I'm wide awake but I’m not allowed to open my presents yet!”

Hermione smiled. “Birth does take a while, you know? Especially the first time.”

“Hmmm. I’m nervous too, though I know Angelina is really fit and she’ll do great, so it’s not that. I’m just finding it hard to keep still and I don’t know what to do with myself. They,” he indicated the closed bedroom door with his thumb, “won’t let me go in because apparently I’m,” he made scare quotes with his fingers, “not conducive to the birthing environment, so I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t do anything helpful out here either.”

Fred bounced up on his feet again.

“OK,” said Hermione, standing up with him before he could take off again. “Well I have to say I agree that you wouldn’t be a helpful addition to the birth room right now.” He pulled his mouth down and made a sad face at her. “I’m sorry, Fred” she added, with a short laugh, “but you’d slow Ange’s labour down, and I don’t think that’s what you’d want, is it?”

He shook his head. “Why?”

“Why would you slow it down?”

“Yeah. Nobody tells me anything except that I can't help. You're a healer, so you must know why?”

“OK,” said Hermione. "Let’s drink our tea and then go out for a bit; we’ll go somewhere that’ll give you more space to jiggle, and I’ll answer any questions you want me to while we’re moving. Hang on while I scribble a note for your mum.”

Hermione wrote a line for Molly on the back of an old WWW flyer and pushed the paper under the bedroom door. As they both drained their mugs, she picked up her handbag and held her hand out for Fred’s, apparating them both to a small park which held a set of swings and a roundabout. Fred’s eyes were wide. “This place is awesome!”

“I grew up just over there,” Hermione pointed towards a row of cottages beyond a small copse that stood to the side of the park. “I used to come here to think a lot.” As she spoke, she climbed onto one of the swings and kicked off so that she swung slowly back and forth. “Help yourself,” she said to Fred, waving her hand to indicate the rest of the park. “You can swing at your own pace, or walk up and down here while we chat, if you like. I don’t think I can keep up with your long legs otherwise.”

Fred grinned. He took the swing next to Hermione, but kicked about four times as hard so that his body would move faster through the air. “Tell me why I would slow things down then, love?”

Hermione always felt slightly warm when Fred used terms of endearment with her, but she tried to stay focused on his need to understand what was happening. “Well,” she began, “I don’t know whether your mum told you any of this, but have you ever heard of hormones?”

Fred looked skywards and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. What are they?”

“They’re substances in our body … kind of like messengers, and they help our body get into different states. For instance if we need to run or be ready to fight, or or relax and get close with a partner. Or give birth. And ideally you need the right hormone for the right situation.”

“I have little owls inside me? Teeny tiny ones?”

Hermione laughed. “Not those kind of messengers. Chemical messengers.”

Fred grinned to himself. “Go on, love; I’m just teasing you.” In his younger days, he hadn’t always relished Hermione’s lectures, but now he found he rather enjoyed it when the pretty witch was in full sail, especially when she gave him her full attention at the same time, so he listened carefully despite his restlessness.

“Well when women go into labour, the whole process is dependent on the release of a hormone called oxytocin, did you know that?”

“No…”

“Well that’s no problem. Oxytocin is sometimes called the hormone of love, but I mean love in the broadest sense of the word.” She paused for a second and eyed him, wondering if he was going to be silly about this. He looked interested and attentive though, so she decided to continue. “Oxytocin is released when we’re having a good time with friends or family, or cuddling a partner or things like that.”

“So oxytocin gets released at Mum’s Sunday dinners?”

“Yeah, I guess it might,” she laughed. “At least sometimes. The flow of oxytocin stops when someone feels any stress or danger though, so its flow will be inhibited if anyone is tense or loud or argumentative, for instance –”

“Like Ron?” he grinned.

“Maybe,” she conceded, tipping her head and looking at him. His swinging had slowed slightly and he was clearly keen to know more. “Or really even if anyone is just not relaxed in some way, or if they're excited or worried, because then they are more likely to be putting out adrenalin, which is another hormone that has the opposite effect from oxytocin.”

Fred nodded. “I get it so far; this is interesting.”

“OK,” Hermione continued. “Well adrenalin is sometimes called the hormone of ‘fight or flight’. It makes us able to run fast or to defend ourselves. It’s why a lot of us still get spooked easily since the war,” Hermione sighed. Her gaze was still upon him. He was a bright man, and she could see that the penny was starting to drop.

“I’m not relaxed enough to have oxytocin at the moment, am I?”

“Not really, Fred. And that could be an issue because women need to have oxytocin flowing in order for labour to progress and we find that women do best if we can create an environment where their oxytocin flows well. In the right environment, women’s bodies can give birth effectively and safely and well, although labour is still meant to take a while, you know?”

“That makes sense.”

“OK, good. And we know that oxytocin release is promoted by making the environment soft, like with dim lighting and low voices; it’s released when you have your needs met and you’re surrounded by people you like. We can promote its release by doing calming things and sometimes we suggest that women cuddle and kiss their partner, because that helps too. Does Ange have a birth pool?”

“Oh yes,” Fred's voice sounded excited again. “George and I put it up a couple of weeks ago. It’s got magical jets and everything. We got in and had a go.”

Hermione laughed at the mental image of the two tall men in a birth pool. “Well warm water helps women relax as well, and relaxed is what we want. Because that also helps women release other substances that give them natural relief from pain. So that’s why we shut the curtains and dim the lights and use quiet voices when women are in labour. If a woman becomes stressed or there’s stressful energy around her, it can slow things down and make things painful, and that doesn’t help anybody.”

“Oh. And I'm stressful?”

“Well not always, but you realised yourself that you’re not putting out much oxytocin at the moment, Fred, and you seem to be a bit adrenalin-fuelled so I think your mum and the midwives are probably worried that in this frame of mind you might stall Angelina’s labour.”

“I guess that makes sense.” He looked sad, and Hermione’s heart felt for him.

“It’s not just you, Fred. Anyone who’s tense or stressed could have the same effect. One reason women choose home birth is because they're less likely to encounter people who will accidentally stress them out. Even women who think they want to be in the hospital sometimes find it’s not the best place for them to labour, because their hormones don’t flow so well.”

“I don’t mean to be overexcited.” He looked like an unhappy boy rather than the successful twenty-three year-old inventor, business owner and war veteran that he was.

Hermione wanted to jump off her swing and hug him, but wasn’t sure how he would react to that. “it’s OK,” she said softly. “You could still help loads, Fred. You were wrong when you said there wasn’t anything you could do; there's a whole team in there who would love it if we fed and watered them so they can concentrate on supporting Angelina.” Fred's eyes lit up. He liked having a purpose. “It's hard when you feel you can’t do anything to help directly, I know, but there’s no reason you can’t know what’s happening and we can put your excess energy to better use than this.”

“OK, where do we start?” 

“Well, how long has Ange been in labour, do you know?”

“I woke up about 6,” he said. “And Georgie said then that they thought that Ange was in labour and they had been up in the night but they were OK. So I had a shower and I made them both a bacon butty and some tea. Then I went down to the shop at 8 and told Lee and Verity they’d be on their own in the store because I didn’t want to go down and leave Ange and George. They didn’t want me in the bedroom, of course, but they sent me to The Burrow for mum, and Ginny came back for a bit too and then that nice midwife arrived; the one who came to your birthday do and seemed to have her eye on Ron?”

“Jane,” Hermione said. She would be happy for Ron if he could get together with Jane. Jane was a lovely witch, but she knew how rubbish Ron was with women from her own brief experience with him, and she didn’t fancy his chances.

“Yeah, so Jane arrived and went in as well, and then Ginny went to work and mum called you. And I know the birth pool is being filled up for when Ange wants it and it seems to have become a bit of a party to which I have not been invited, which I now realise is because I’m too exciting.”

Hermione didn't quite manage to hide her smile that time. Really, she couldn’t imagine anyone more likely to unintentionally slow down someone’s labour than the irrepressible Fred Weasley in an overexcited mood. Briefly, she wondered what would happen when he met a witch he wanted to settle down with and had a birth of his own to attend, but she pushed that thought back down. She had rather liked Fred for a while now and, while she didn’t see anything ever coming of it, she found that she enjoyed her day more if she didn’t spend time imagining him in a relationship or having children with another witch.

“So they’ve all been there since early?”

“Yep.”

“Well they'll appreciate an early lunch then. I’ve got a big batch of soup on the stove at home that I was making when your mum called; we could go and get that and finish making it together at your flat, and how about we pick up my baking stuff while we’re there and we’ll make something nice for after?”

“I like that idea. I'd like to do something useful.”

“Right, then.” They both jumped off their swings and, taking his hand again, Hermione apparated them into her small kitchen. It was a matter of a few minutes’ work to load Fred up with the wicker hamper that she kept full of baking ingredients and implements while she lifted the large red soup pan off the stove. Reaching for a recipe book which she added on top of his load, she smiled at him. 

“We’ll have to apparate back to the flat separately,” she said. “I have no hands to hold you with!”

Fred’s eyebrows lifted. “Well that is a shame,” he teased, as he disappeared with a wink and a crack.

Hermione sighed. When Fred said things like that, she could almost believe that there was some hope for the two of them. Maybe. But more often than not, a different, unreadable emotion would cross his face within seconds of his flirtatious comment and he would move on as if nothing had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione hadn’t cooked in the flat’s kitchen before. She had eaten there a few times, mostly during her healer training. She would often offer to help out in the store during the Christmas holidays, when the boys really needed a few extra pairs of hands. In the busy season, Fred and George would gladly recruit any of their family and friends who had time to help, and they not only insisted on paying time and a half to compensate for the madness that was WWW in the run-up to Christmas, but every evening after the shop closed they would invite everyone upstairs and lay on takeaway and butterbeer for the hungry workers.

And once, a few months ago, Hermione had bumped into Fred in Diagon Alley where she had stopped to do a little shopping on her way home from St Mungos. She had been exhausted after a long, busy day, and he had taken her bags from her and led her into the shop, insisting that she floo home from the flat rather than walk any further. But once she arrived, Angelina – who was just pregnant at the time – had taken one look at the younger witch and made her lie down on Fred’s bed for an hour’s nap, after which she stayed for dinner. 

That had been a lovely evening; the four of them had chatted while they ate, and they then went up to the roof garden to watch the stars come out. Hermione had found herself on a two-seater sofa with Fred and he had looped his arm around her and offered his shoulder as a pillow while they both leaned back to watch the stars with an after dinner firewhisky. It hadn’t helped put a damper on her feelings at all; in fact, quite the opposite. Since then, Hermione had found herself flushing even more in his presence and had had to make a conscious effort to steer clear of him when Molly or Ginny were around, lest either of the observant, match-making witches catch on and decide to meddle. She didn’t think she could handle the inevitable rejection that she was sure would follow any intervention on their part.

Bringing herself back to the present, Hermione placed her oval pan onto the top of the stove and used her wand to light a flame underneath it. Luckily, she was in the habit of cooking large batches of soup, so that she could freeze some for when she worked nights. She was confident that there would be enough for everyone, but she looked in the fridge anyway and pulled out the few vegetables that she found there. Most had seen slightly better days and had clearly been abandoned in favour of fish and chip dinners, but they would soon perk up in her soup. 

“Do you want to wash or chop?” she asked Fred.

“Oh my, Ms Granger; you do know how to excite a man!”

Hermione bumped his hip with hers as she headed towards the sink with the vegetables.

“Here,” she pointed to them. “I spend enough time washing my hands at work … you wash and I’ll chop.”

“And then we can do baking?”

“Sure,” she laughed.

It took them just a few minutes to prepare the vegetables and pop them into the soup, which was just beginning to bubble again. Hermione set it to simmer, started another tray of tea for those in the bedroom and then turned to Fred, who was already delving through the contents of her baking basket.

“What would you like to make then?” she asked him. “I seem to remember you love my brownies, or shall we go traditional and make a groaning cake?”

“A whatting cake?” Fred frowned and laughed. 

Hermione smiled back. “A groaning cake,” she repeated. “If you believe the stories, then it's a traditional labour day activity. Women or their families make a cake during early labour and – depending on whose account you read – either it's for sustenance during labour or to celebrate after the birth or to fill the house with cosy baking smells and help create the right atmosphere.”

“I like all of those options,” said Fred. “Let's go with groaning cake.”

“OK then. Let me just take their next lot of tea through and then we can get started.”

If you had asked Fred Weasley that morning to put money on whether Hermione Granger was one of the people who weighed everything out and followed recipes to the letter or one of those people who seemed to instinctively know how much to put in and had a more laissez faire attitude to what went into the ceramic bowl that she had produced from her basket and then enlarged with her wand, he would have picked the former every time. So he was surprised and secretly quite delighted when she displayed a very relaxed attitude to the addition of ingredients to their cake. 

“Flour first,” she passed Fred the bag. “A few handfuls should do it. And then chuck in whatever dry things you like; nuts, spices, dried fruit; it's all good.”

“Really? Just chuck stuff in?”

Hermione nodded. “Why not? Maybe not too much cinnamon, but half the fun is in not knowing what it will taste like each time. Here, maybe some coconut sugar and a few chopped dates for sweetness...”

Fred stared at her. “Seriously, Hermione, you're very lax at this! I don't know whether to offer you a job in the Wheezes product creation lab on the spot or to make a mental note never to let you into the workroom for fear you'd blow us all up!”

Hermione snorted. “Of course I wouldn't blow you up! I'm not stupid; just more creative and relaxed these days. War will do that to you, I suppose.”

“Well I wish you would come and spend a day in the lab with me,” Fred told her, as she handed him a box of eggs to crack into the bowl. “You might be able to help me solve the as-yet intractable problem of my new salve which I can't figure out how to make for the best.”

“A salve? That sounds like it could be up my alley ... what's the problem?”

Fred nodded. “It's more of a cost problem, really. I know what heals and we have loads of products that can soothe, but we want to create an everyday basic salve that is truly healing for skin when bruise paste isn't needed but without using expensive ingredients like murtlap. We want to make something that everyone can carry a small jar of and supply St Mungo's in bulk from whatever we make but it's proving rather difficult to find the right balance between effectiveness and cost.”

“Hmmmmm. Have you tried comfrey?” Hermione asked casually.

“Comfrey? That's not a commonly used magical ingredient,” Fred frowned.

“I know; it's considered a weed, but muggle herbalists have used it to heal skin for centuries. It's very effective, and there's loads of it at The Burrow, beside where you all play quidditch, so you wouldn't even have to pay for it. You might want to double check with Neville, but if you mixed it with a base oil and something to make it set, you could make tons of it for next to nothing. You could even grow it on your roof here, though I'm sure your mum would be happy to let you have it if it meant you visited more –”

She tailed off as Fred picked her up with flour-covered hands and twirled her around the kitchen. “You're bloody brilliant,” he told her, pecking her on the cheek as he set her down. “We'll name it after you. What do you reckon; Healer Granger's Skin Salve? Hermione's Herbal Hotchpotch?”

Hermione was laughing, and also trying not to breathe in the scent of Fred as he held her to his chest. Why wouldn't he stop all this casual brotherly physical contact? He clearly had no idea what effect it had on her, though Hermione supposed that wasn't a bad thing. “Put me down, Fred!” she told him. “We need to finish the cake and get it in the oven!”

An hour and ten minutes later – during which time Fred and Hermione had flooed to The Burrow to pick a basketful of comfrey, popped home for a cake check and then flooed to Hogwarts to pass the comfrey by Neville, who confirmed its identity and Hermione's knowledge of its properties – the cake was baked, cooled and ready for consumption. Molly hadn't even seen the note she had left that time, Hermione realised, so nobody even knew they had gone anywhere until the bedroom door opened a few minutes after their return.

“That smells wonderful, what is it?”

“Ange!” Fred was delighted to see his sister-in-law emerge from the bedroom en route to the loo. Hermione placed a warning hand on his back, wanting to remind him not to get overexcited again. He nodded, letting her know that he understood, and lowered his tone. “How are you doing, love?”

“I'm OK, Fred. It’s hard work, but snogging Georgie seems to take the edge off!”

“Fab!” Fred declared. “I expect that will be the oxytocin...” but Ange had already waddled into the bathroom and closed the door.

Hermione took the opportunity to pop her head into the bedroom, where she found George, Molly and Jane chatting. “Soup and cake in the kitchen, people. Plenty for everyone, so get it while it's hot and you can get a break!”

They didn't need to be told twice. All three headed out of the bedroom and quickly filled themselves with lunch. “How are you doing, Fred?” Molly asked her son. 

He nodded. “I'm alright mum, thanks. Do you like the cake?”

“It looks and smells lovely, but give me a minute to finish my soup and I’ll taste it,” his mum replied. 

“How is Ange doing?”

“Really well,” George told him. She wants to get in the birth pool, but Jane thought it would be good if she walked about a bit and had a wee first. He nodded his head towards the closed bathroom door. 

Seconds later, “Ange's voice could be heard; “Geooooooooorge". Fred didn't know whether it was twin intuition or years of playing beater opposite each other, but he instinctively caught the soup bowl and napkin that George tossed his way as his brother turned and ran to the bathroom to hold his wife through her pain.

Worried, Fred looked at Hermione. “Quite normal,” she said, patting his arm. “It feels intense, but it comes and goes, so Ange gets a rest in between, and she's doing really well.”

It took another half an hour for Ange to make it into the pool but, at least according to Jane and Hermione, that was no bad thing. “It's kind of good to have distractions; to have other things to do,” she said to Fred. “Which is why I told your mum we're going out again later. We'll get cabin fever otherwise. How about we pop down to your workroom first though, and cook up a test batch of comfrey salve? I'm keen to see if it works.”

Hermione was banking on keeping Fred busy in the workroom for a good couple of hours. He made Molly promise to send a patronus downstairs if anything happened, and both she and Hermione exchanged another of those knowing glances. Both knew that birth was unpredictable, so anything was technically possible, but they were both experienced enough to know how unlikely it was that Angelina would have the baby while it was still daylight. 

The pair began their salve making by taking a cauldron and bubbling a generous bunch of chopped comfrey in some oil. Once it had steeped, they added ingredients so that it would set at room temperature and Fred ran into the store room for a box of the small jars in which they packaged and sold ointments. He stopped on the way back to grab two larger jars and filled both of those with the still-warm mixture before dividing the rest into the smaller containers. He carefully wrote 'Hermione and Fred's tester skin salve' on a batch of labels and stuck one to each lid.

“I think I'll leave the lids off til they cool,” he told Hermione. “Don't want to make it go funny, and we don't know whether it will expand or contract as it cools.”

“Good plan, and I appreciate the scientific logic,” teased Hermione. “And it's only fitting; we're having a very muggle day, you know,” Hermione smiled up at him.

“How come, love?”

“Well,” she began to clean the cauldron that they had used. “We made soup the muggle way, and then did muggle baking, and this ointment,” she nodded at the jars, “well apart from the fact that we used our wands to pack it – which we could have done by hand – that could be made by muggles; there's nothing magical about it.”

“Interesting...” Fred's expression was unreadable, at least to Hermione. “I don't know enough about muggle life; I really should ask you to teach me more.”

“I would love to, Fred. I thought I might take you on a muggle field trip this afternoon, but after all this standing on my feet to bake and cook and brew, I'm wondering if we could have a quick sit down on the sofa with a cup of tea first? I need to finish a present I’m making for the baby, so if you make the tea, I’ll show you how muggles knit … it’s different from how your mum does it!”

“Shit, 'Mione, I forgot you've been working all week. Sorry, love. I’ll make the tea while you rest on the sofa and then you can put your feet in my lap and I'll rub them for you with some of our new tingling spearmint foot balm while you knit, how does that sound?”

Hermione groaned. It sounded torturous, in the best possible way. 

She followed Fred back up the stairs to the flat and settled on the sofa. Delving into her handbag, she pulled out a small package which contained a ball of red and gold wool and a nearly-finished baby hat. When he returned from delivering refreshments to the bedroom with two cups of tea in his hands, he was delighted to see what Hermione was holding.

“A Gryffindor hat! That’s brilliant!”

Hermione turned her knitting one way and then the other. “I’m quite pleased with it, actually. I found the wool in Hogsmeade; it’s part of a new range they’re testing out. I’m not a very fast knitter though, so I thought if I made something small then there was more chance I’d finish it in time.”

“It’s going to be perfect,” Fred told her. “So show me how it’s different?”

“Well,” replied Hermione. “It’s just that muggles hold the needles all the time and make each stitch themselves, whereas magical people can charm the needles. It’s much faster the magical way, and it’d take your mum all year to make your Christmas jumpers otherwise, but I quite like knitting the muggle way because it’s relaxing.”

She looked up to find his face close to hers. Fred was keenly looking at her fingers, ready to be shown something new, but his eyes flicked up to hers as she looked at him, and Hermione hurriedly looked back down at her knitting lest she fall into his gaze, unable to find her way back out.

“OK,” she whispered. “It’s quite easy, and rhythmic. I put my needle into the old stitch, then I wind the wool round. I pull it through to make a new stitch and then I sweep it off the needle. And I keep doing that over and over again … watch.”

Fred watched. It looked fairly simple, so within a couple of minutes he inevitably wanted to try himself. Hermione handed him the needles and coached him through a few stitches, gently guiding his fingers with her own at first to help him make the correct movements. By the time he reached the end of the row, he was knitting on his own and he held the hat up proudly to show her.

“Beautiful,” Hermione declared. “Are you going to turn it around and do the next row too, or shall I have it back now?”

“You’re going to have it back and I’m going to give you the foot rub I promised. It’ll be a better division of labour.” Fred raised his wand to summon the foot balm, tugged Hermione’s legs from under her and pulled her socks off, tickling her toes in the process. Pouring lotion into his hands, he lifted both of her feet into his lap, and Hermione groaned in pleasure as he simultaneously placed a hand on the sole of each of her feet and began to slather the lotion on. 

Hermione groaned. “Oh wow, that feels amazing, Fred…”

Fred smiled in reply. “Just relax and enjoy it, love. It’s about time someone else did something nice for you.”

Hermione shifted her bottom to get more comfortable, arranged her wool so that it would move freely as she knitted, and gave herself over to the pleasure of having her feet massaged by the gorgeous wizard. There was just one thing missing, and she gathered her knitting up in one hand so she could use her wand to accio the bar of chocolate that she had bought from Honeydukes the previous week, breaking off a large chunk for Fred as well as herself. Fred’s eyes lit up as he saw it but, rather than stopping the massage, he leaned forward and opened his mouth enough that Hermione could pop the chocolate between his lips. 

“Do you think we’re starting to have oxytocin now?” he asked through a mouthful of chocolate.

“If we don’t, then it’s not through a lack of effort!”

They rested in peaceful silence for a while, sharing the chocolate while Fred rubbed Hermione’s feet to the rhythm of her knitting needles. “You know this is what some muggle midwives do?” she told him quietly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere they were creating. “They knit while women are in early labour; it seems to help women relax. When I did a muggle midwifery placement during my healer training, one midwife told me that it’s because women instinctively know that, if the midwife is knitting, then she can’t be too worried so then they are reassured that there isn’t a problem and it helps them relax.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Fred decided. “I feel relaxed watching you knit.” He gently began to pull each of Hermione’s toes in turn, and she nestled even further down into the sofa, snuggling her head into a cushion and wondering if Fred might stay relaxed long enough to allow her to close her eyes for a few minutes and take an early afternoon nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments ... we're continuing!


	3. Chapter 3

“Can we do a spell or something, to hurry things along?”

“There’s really no need, Fred,” Hermione smiled sleepily, as she opened her eyes to find the redheaded wizard’s grinning face close to hers. They had both dozed off after Hermione's foot rub, and Hermione had awoken to find her legs tangled with Fred’s, who had turned sideways to get more comfortable. She began to sit up, somewhat embarrassed by how much she was enjoying the proximity to him.

“But you could speed things up if you needed to?”

Hermione knew, after all their conversations that morning, that he was teasing. “Of course, but we work on the principle of ‘first do no harm’, as you know, and we need a good reason to interfere. And ‘baby has an impatient uncle’ wouldn’t generally be considered a good medical reason!”

He wrinkled his nose. “Well it was worth a try. Did you enjoy your nap, love?”

“I really did. And look, I finished my hat before I nodded off, so all is well with the world and the baby can come when it likes.” Fred admired the red and gold hat. “Are you feeling restless again?”

He nodded. “Yeah, a bit…”

“Well then I'll take you on your field trip. Look…” she pointed at the clock on the wall, which showed that it was now mid afternoon. “It’s going to be dinner time in a couple of hours. You and I can make a nice casserole and steam a load of green veg and then anyone who wants to can nip out and grab a bowl quickly. I doubt Ange will want them taking it into the room; pregnant women are highly sensitive to smell.”

Fred nodded in agreement. “I can go for that.”

Hermione eased herself off the sofa, stretching her arms as she walked towards the kitchen and then flicked her wand to start making more tea for the troops. She opened the pantry door and squatted down to see what was there, although she already knew from earlier in the day that she wasn’t going to find the ingredients for a whole meal. “We’ll need to go shopping regardless,” she commented, as Fred entered the room behind her. “I'm just wondering if you have onions and garlic or anything that needs using up.”

Fred pulled a face. “We don't have much in at all. Ange normally does shopping, and Georgie cooks. But they’ve been a bit preoccupied for the past few days, and I worked more hours to cover George in the shop, so we got takeaway a lot…”

“Well never mind; we need to go shopping anyway, like I said. I’ll just take this tea in and let your mum know.”

It was Molly who answered Hermione’s soft tap, opening the bedroom door just wide enough for Hermione to see that Angelina was rocking back and forth in the birth pool as the sensations of labour washed over her body. George had stripped down to his boxers and got into the water behind her and Hermione’s heart swelled when she realised that he was crooning into her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he was telling her. “I’m so proud of you.” Angelina’s head was leaning back onto his shoulder and she was stroking his red hair with one hand. When her fingers tightened as the sensation in her belly became stronger, George didn’t complain, simply rocking her slightly harder.

Hermione’s heart melted, and tears came to her eyes. She hoped one day to be in Angelina’s position; sat between the legs of a man she loved while giving birth to his baby. And if the redheaded man in Hermione’s fantasy looked a lot like – OK, pretty much exactly like, if you just added a second ear, a couple of scars and a slightly less crooked grin – the man in Angelina’s birth pool, well Hermione couldn’t help that. Imagination was a weird thing.

Molly caught the look in Hermione’s eyes and patted her hand before taking the tray she offered. “That’ll be you soon enough, sweetheart,” she reassured her in a whisper.

“Maybe…” Hermione flushed a little. Under normal circumstances, she might have denied her feelings, especially to Molly, who was likely to bring the subject up repeatedly over the following months, but it didn’t seem right to do that today, and Hermione wasn’t exactly sure why.

She quietly told Molly her plan to take Fred out shopping and then enlist him to cook with her, which Molly thought was a brilliant idea. “You’re doing a great job, darling,” Molly told her. “Thank you so much for being here with him.”

Apparating them to a designated alley behind her favourite branch of Waitrose, Hermione kept hold of Fred’s hand and explained the rules of behaviour that he needed to agree to if she was to take him round a muggle supermarket.

“You can push the trolley, but you’re too old to ride in it and people will think you’re weird if you do. And I’ll buy you anything you like – within reason – as long as you don’t use any magic or embarrass me –” 

Fred looked horrified. He pointed to himself, mouthing the word, “moi?”

“Yes, you,” Hermione tickled his ribs as she took a pound coin from her bag and slotted it into a shopping trolley, releasing it from its confines and pushing it across so that Fred could take it.

Heading for the vegetables first, she piled broccoli, kale, beetroot, parsnips and carrots into the trolley. “We’ll steam the greens and roast the rest,” she declared, “and I need some onions and mushrooms to put in the casserole.”

“Yum!” Fred was impressed with the menu so far. “Shall we get some ice cream as well, to go with the leftover cake?”

“Sure, get whatever you like,” Hermione was enjoying the chance to see Fred in a new environment. He had this interesting mix of confidence, innocence and curiosity which she found immensely appealing.

“And I need some star anise for a new product I’m creating; I could get that while we’re here.”

“Let’s go then…”

After Fred had thoroughly inspected the spice aisle, making a big show of reaching for things with his fingers rather than summoning them with his wand, Hermione announced that they needed to look for beef. There was a far wider selection than she had anticipated, though, and she spent some time trying to work out which would best suit her needs. While Hermione’s back was turned, Fred weighed up the ‘no riding’ rule and decided that it surely applied only to riding in the trolley. He discovered that, if he braced his arms and leaned forward on the handle, he could lift his feet off the ground and travel for several yards under his own momentum. If Hermione was surprised to find, upon turning around to put some diced beef into the trolley, that Fred was at the other end of the aisle, she didn’t show it. Beckoning at him to return, she turned back to select another pack of meat and was surprised to find how quickly he was back by her side.

“I said no magic, Fred,” she said quietly.

His eyes opened wide. “I didn’t use any, I promise. Look…”

He turned his trolley around and sailed off again, although this time his journey was curtailed by the arrival of an elderly lady, who seemed to think he was very funny and engaged him in a chat about the best way to prepare pulled pork. Hermione decided that it was better to carry the packets of beef towards him and his new friend rather than summon him back a second time. She found Fred telling her that his brother and sister-in-law were having a baby at their shared flat and that he was trying to keep his mind off things.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry, lovey,” the lady was telling him when Hermione joined them. “I had five born at home, and all were fine. One of mine even lives in America now! We’ve been doing it for thousands of years, you know, and it all works well if you’re patient.”

“My mum had seven of us,” he said proudly.

“Well good for her,” the lady patted his arm. “I hope it all goes well for you all, son. And maybe it’ll be your turn next, if you treat your girlfriend nicely!” She smiled at Hermione.

“Oh no,” Hermione began, but Fred decided not to tell her that Hermione wasn’t his girlfriend. He made a show of wrapping an arm around Hermione and kissing her on the cheek.

“Don’t be worried, love,” said Fred’s new friend. “It’s perfectly natural, and it’s all worth it in the end.”

Hermione nodded and gave up. “Thank you,” she said, before taking Fred’s hand again. “We really need to get on with our shopping though, Fred. It was nice to meet you.”

Fred grinned and waved as he said goodbye, and the elderly lady could quite see why the young woman was so taken with him. She hoped that they would be happy together as she turned back to the pork.

The rest of their shop was uneventful; they stocked up in the chocolate aisle and bought a couple of bottles of champagne – to wet the baby’s head, he said – and then made their way to the till via the frozen meals department. Hermione thought it would be good to pop a few curries and ready meals into the freezer for after the baby was born. When they reached the checkout area, Fred insisted on paying, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see that not only did he have a muggle debit card but that he was confident about using it. 

“George and I have one each, on a joint muggle bank account that the goblins helped us set up,” he explained, so that only she could hear. “We figured out a couple of years ago that there are some ingredients that are much cheaper in the muggle world than if you get them from wizarding supply stores.”

Hermione shook her head, wondering if he would ever cease to surprise her. 

“Here you go, love,” said the woman behind the till. She handed Fred his receipt and a small circular green disc, which he looked at in wonderment.

“Thank you,” said Hermione, taking over before Fred could say anything. She took his arm, leading Fred and his bag-laden trolley towards the exit. “Look,” she told him, stopping in front of a Perspex box. 

“The shop gives money to charity each month, and customers can decide which charities they want to support. Read the descriptions and put your token in the one you would like to give your bit to.”

It took Fred a few minutes to decide on a charity supporting sick children, and he happily popped his token into the appropriate slot. Next, they reclaimed their pound coin at the trolley park, and he insisted on carrying both of the large shopping bags as Hermione led him to a quiet alley behind the store so that they could apparate back without being seen.

“Wow, love, you do take me to the best places,” he winked, and Hermione laughed.

“Separately or side-along?” she asked him.

“Side-along works for me; grab on, love, and I’ll lead,” he nodded his chin towards his chest, indicating that his hands were full of shopping bags.

With a sigh of she-knew-not-what, Hermione stepped forward and slipped her arms around Fred’s waist, briefly leaning her head on his chest before he apparated them back to the flat. It always felt so good to be that close to him, but she really did need to stop thinking that way. 

Back in the kitchen, Hermione made quick work of unpacking the ready meals into the freezer and then installing Fred by the chopping board to prepare vegetables. Within half an hour, she had a beef casserole on the go and a tray of seasoned roast veg in the oven. She had placed a spell that Molly had taught her on a dish full of green vegetables; it steamed them as people put them onto their plates, and not before, thus ensuring maximum nutritional value. It was Hermione’s favourite of all the cooking spells that Fred’s mum had shown her thus far. 

Once the rest of the food was ready and simmering under warming charms, Fred laid out a few bowls and spoons so that people could serve themselves while Hermione slipped another note under the door to let the occupants of the bedroom know that dinner was available to anyone who was hungry. Two minutes later, Molly stepped out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

“How calm are you, Fred?” Molly was looking at her son, but it was clear that her question was directed at Hermione.

“Much better now, Molly.”

“Good. Can you bring him in here, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded, and did as she was asked. The bedroom was dim, and Angelina had clearly got out of the pool some time ago, as she was now dry and wearing one of George’s old shirts with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Standing with her back to the door, she was leaning forward with her arms wrapped around George’s neck. He looked tired. Jane was sitting on a birth ball behind Angelina, rubbing soft circles on her lower back.

“We have a job for you, Fred.” Molly spoke quietly. “You have to stay calm, though?”

“I’m good now, Mum, honest,” he replied. “Hermione calmed me down no end.”

“Good. Well your brother really needs to rest and eat, but Angelina has finally found a comfy position, so she doesn’t want to move. She’s agreed that you can stand in for a few minutes, though. We figured that, as you’re the same height and width as George, she won’t have to adjust her position.”

Fred grinned. Here was a not often considered advantage of being an identical twin. He went to stand beside his brother, waited patiently until Ange’s heavy breathing slowed, indicating the end of the contraction, and then took exactly the same position as George, holding Ange carefully and bracing himself as he took some of her weight. She sighed into him; his shoulder was a bit cooler than George’s, not having had her head on it for the last half hour. It was like turning a pillow to the cool side, and she enjoyed the new sensation.

“Hey Freddie.”

“Hi Ange. I hear you’re doing great.”

“Hmmmmmph.”

That was all the conversation she wanted now, but Fred understood. He simply concentrated on breathing deeply, realising from what Hermione had told him earlier that, if he could focus on staying relaxed, it could only help Angelina.

Below them, Hermione put her hand on Jane’s back. “Go with George and get some food,” she told the midwife in hushed tones. “I’ll take your place while you eat. I won’t interfere; I promise!”

Jane smiled and whispered a grateful thank you before she and George left to refuel themselves. Hermione positioned herself on the birth ball, whispered a quiet hello to Angelina and rested her hand on Ange’s sacrum, just where Jane’s had been. Catching Fred’s eyes, she lifted her eyebrows, wanting to check that he was OK. He nodded. 

Ange’s breathing hitched and Hermione knew that another contraction was starting. She increased the counterpressure on Ange’s sacrum and took even slower breaths, catching Fred’s eyes in the hope that he would follow suit. He did, and she heard him murmuring soft words to his old friend through the sensation, telling her how well she was doing and keeping his breathing slow so that she could match it. 

They carried on like this for about fifteen minutes, and Hermione was happy that George was getting a bit of a break. From what she could tell, the baby wasn’t that far away, and there wouldn’t be any chance for another break once Angelina started to push.

As it turned out, Hermione’s intuition was spot on. Just as George returned to the room and took his wife back from his twin’s arms with a quiet word of thanks for the food and the break, Ange gave a deep groan and squatted down a little, hanging onto George as she did. George reacted instinctively, bracing himself to take the extra weight, and looking around for reassurance that nothing was wrong.

Fred looked worried too, and Hermione reached for both of the twins and gave each of their legs a reassuring pat. “All normal and good,” she whispered reassuringly. She wasn’t at all surprised when Jane walked back in the room; midwives were highly attuned to the sound of a woman beginning to feel the urge to push, and they exchanged glances before Jane used her wand to quietly check the baby’s heartbeat. She smiled; everything was well and, at this rate, they might be in bed before midnight. Jane then took a coin from her pocket and used her wand to send a silent message to Sally, the second midwife. Hermione was always proud to see that the spell she had created for use on the galleons used by Dumbledore’s Army had been adapted into use as a paging system between the midwifery and medical staff who worked out in the community.

Five minutes later, both Sally and Ginny arrived at the bedroom door, whispering together. Molly let them in and decided to swap places with her daughter so that she, too, could eat. Somewhat to Fred’s disappointment, she led him out of the room as well, and Hermione followed them. Fred had been hoping that nobody would notice that he was still there, and that he could hide in a corner and see the baby being born, but clearly his mother had other ideas.

Resigned to his role as support staff, Fred led his mum to the kitchen and ladled hot casserole into a clean bowl before topping it off with an array of veggies and a knob of butter. “Oh, that looks lovely, Fred, thank you,” Molly smiled at her son as he handed her a soup spoon. 

“It was mostly Hermione,” he shrugged. “Though I do a good line in vegetable chopping!”

“You’re a great sous chef, Fred,” Hermione murmured. 

Molly looked carefully between the two of them as she ate. “I’d say you make a good team,” she said quietly, between mouthfuls. Hermione decided that it was a good moment to head for the kitchen and start washing the bowls and spoons. The idea of being a team with Fred Weasley was too tempting for her to want to dwell on and, besides, the least she could do was to make sure that everything was clean and clear before George and Angelina emerged with their new arrival.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you think you’ll want that one day, Hermione?” Fred’s hand waved in the general direction of George and Angelina’s bedroom. Everyone else was back in the bedroom now, rested and fed, and they had decided to sit back down on the sofa and await events.

“A family, or to give birth at home?”

“Well I meant a family, but I guess … yeah, whatever … do healers think about what kind of births they want? Is that part of your training?”

Hermione laughed. “No, but I know I would want to stay home like Angie and your mum. As long as everything was OK, of course, but I’m healthy and fit so there’s no reason it shouldn’t be. St Mungo's is great if there's a problem, but I'd prefer to stay put, have a birth pool in the bedroom, have my wizard kissing the pain away, being among familiar smells and people and all that...”

“You’d like a family then?”

There was a pause before Hermione spoke softly. “I’d love to have a family, Fred. I know everyone thinks of me as being career-focused, and I suppose I am a bit, but really I’d like to have both.” She dropped her gaze to her knees and shrugged. “If the right wizard ever comes along.”

Fred reached out and gently cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head back up until their eyes met.

“And how will you know when he does?”

Her heart leapt at the way his eyes locked with hers, but she tried to calm herself. It’s not like she could tell him that, if it was up to her, she would already be with him; that he was the right wizard in her mind; that spending the day with him had made it harder than ever to deny how she felt about him. No, he had never shown any interest beyond the ongoing, everyday flirting that seemed to come naturally to two thirds of the Weasley men. Why risk humiliating herself by letting him know that she had accidentally given him her heart several years ago when she saw him riding off with George on their broomsticks and taking a stand against Umbridge’s oppressive regime, and had been hopelessly and increasingly in love with him ever since?

“Who knows?” she finally whispered, dropping her eyes again and not trusting herself to say more.

“Hermione?” he leaned in. “What’s up, love?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nothing, Fred. Just being silly. All those bonding hormones getting to me, I expect.” She attempted to get up, thinking that another good bustle around the kitchen might help her shake off the desire that was seeping through her body. But Fred caught her arm in his hand before she could rise and urged her to stay on the sofa with him. His eyes met hers again.

“There’s someone you like?” His voice was gentle, and she nodded. 

Fuck it. Maybe it was time to tell him, after all. Maybe if she did, they could laugh about it together, especially after their day of sharing intimate and intense experiences, and then move on. Maybe getting it out of her system and suffering the ignominy of hearing him turn her down gently would mean she could move on and fall in love with someone else; maybe a man who would actually return her feelings this time.

“Who, love?”

It was time, Hermione decided. Lifting her chin, she sat up straighter and looked straight at him. It was now or never, and she summoned her inner lion and chose now.

“You,” she whispered. “Fred, it’s always been you.”

Before she could add anything else, her eyes filled with tears from the sheer shock of letting her feelings out, and she felt Fred’s thumbs touching her and then gently wiping the tears away as he cradled her cheeks in his hands, a look of concern on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Fred. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything,” she told him quietly, touching his forearm with her hand. “I need to get over this. I don’t want it to get in the way of our friendsh-” 

The remainder of her sentence went unspoken as Fred tipped her head slightly to the right and leaned in to give her their first proper kiss. 

Hermione’s breath hitched as she felt Fred’s lips slide over hers. Her tears continued to flow for a moment, but the emotion behind them changed. Softening, she responded to his touch and lost herself in the sensation of kissing the gorgeous wizard who had been in her company all day and in her heart for so much longer. 

Fred Weasley kissed like no other man she had ever been with. The way he used his lips and tongue was veritably sinful, and after a couple of minutes Hermione crawled forward and settled on his lap, wanting to be as close to him as she could while he made love to her mouth. Her stomach was churning in the most delightful way, and she couldn’t wrap herself tightly enough around his body. 

Fred gathered her up in his arms, hitching her body even closer to his. They kissed as if they had been apart for years and needed to make up for lost time. Which was exactly how Hermione felt. Even as she could feel the immediate evidence of his attraction to her against her tummy, Hermione still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. How had they gone from making cake and casserole and riding on shopping trolleys to making out on his sofa with four of his family members and two of her colleagues in the next room?

“Stop thinking, love,” Fred mumbled against her lips. “I can almost hear you. Just keep kissing me…”

“Ohhhh, Fred…” she leaned into him again; his words sending shivers throughout her body. 

After several more minutes, they pulled apart, both breathing heavily. Fred used one long thumb to stroke Hermione’s lips.

“Merlin’s pants, Hermione! If I had known snogging you would feel like that I would have done it years ago.”

“Fred!” Hermione didn’t really know how to respond to that, but she felt that some sort of response was required.

“Come here, love,” he leaned forward and captured her in his arms again. This time, he pulled her fully on top of him and then tipped them both to the side, making her laugh. He settled them carefully into a comfy position on the sofa for more kissing. One of Fred’s hands wove through Hermione’s curls and, in turn, she stroked the red hairs that curled on the back of his neck, causing him to groan. 

“God, I wish we were properly alone!” His other hand strayed down to her back, making wide spirals across her skin. “Do you want to come to my room? I mean, not to do anything you’re not ready for yet, love. Though I’d love it if you would stay the night, especially if we still have to wait a while … just to cuddle, maybe?”

Hermione wasn’t sure how to answer that. She loved the idea, but she wasn’t sure what Molly would make of it, and she needed to process that. On the other hand, her experience told her that, with the sounds that Ange was making in the bedroom, Molly wasn’t likely to be here all night anyway, so she responded by initiating more kisses and they both lost the desire to plan or talk as her tongue tangled gently together with Fred’s in the oldest kind of dance. 

Her instincts were correct. Sure enough, a short while later – and neither of them could ever say how long – their passion was interrupted by the sound of a newborn baby who had arrived earthside and was greeting its parents with a mewl. Upon hearing the noise, the wizarding world’s newest lovers broke apart and gave each other the most enormous grin. Already wrapped quite well around each other, Fred tightened his hold on Hermione and held her to him. “He’s here, love,” he said, gleefully. “I’m an uncle.”

“He’s a she, Gred” said a voice from the bedroom. “You’re an auntie!” Hermione turned her head just in time to see the grin on George’s face as he opened the door to share the good news. “Oh, good job keeping Freddie Bear occupied, Hermione, though I didn’t know THAT was what mum had in mind when she called you over.”

Hermione tipped herself off the sofa just seconds before Molly and Ginny came forward to investigate the meaning of George’s words. However, the creation of a small bit of distance between her and Fred did little to hide the fact that they both had dark eyes, kiss-swollen lips, mussed up hair and grins on their faces the width of Diagon Alley.

“Oh yeah,” said Ginny. “So that’s why you needed a personal healer, Fred.”

“Naff off, Gin-Gin,” he whispered, but it was clear to all that he was joking. “I need to see my niece.”

He launched himself off the sofa and reached George's bedroom in three strides.

“Hang on, Fred; she’s only a few minutes old and Angelina’s not dressed!”

“S’OK,” said Fred to his sister. “I won’t look. Ange can see Hermione when the time comes if it makes her feel better…”

Hermione laughed, shocked at his words, and then blushed when she saw an incredulous look on Molly’s face. Catching up with Fred, she took his hand in hers and together they stood and admired the baby who was scrunched up against Angelina’s breasts, naked underneath the warm blanket on which tiny green dragons were dancing. Angelina had the biggest smile on her face and her eyes were dancing with happiness. “I did it, Freddie,” she told her brother-in-law. “I did it!”

“You so did, love,” he told her as he knelt in front of his friend and kissed her on the cheek. “You were amazing; congratulations!” He leaned further across to pull his twin into a hug as well.

“Congratulations, Angie, George,” said Hermione, reaching to touch the older witch’s hand before giving the couple more kisses. 

“Thank you.” Angelina continued to grin as she looked back up at George, who was sat behind his wife, holding her snugly against his bare chest with one arm while stroking their new baby’s hand with the other. They looked a picture of contentment and love, and Hermione felt so honoured to be a tiny part of this moment which she knew they would remember forever. Jane was taking photos and Hermione smiled at the other midwife, who was sitting quietly on the floor in front of Angelina.

“Hello Hermione,” the older woman nodded at her friend; they hadn’t really spoken when she had arrived. Sally was waiting patiently and keeping an eye on the newest Weasley and her mother.

Hermione smiled. “Hello, Sally. Do you need anything?”

Sally shook her head. “Just waiting for the placenta, but you could make some tea and toast for Angelina if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Consider it done.”

“We got champagne earlier as well,” said Fred. “And then can I have a hold?”

“I think Ange might need to have the placenta first, Freddie! We’re not cutting the cord til it’s out. That way the baby gets all her blood, or something.” That was George.

Fred shrugged. “Oh well, I’ve waited all day so I suppose another few minutes won’t hurt. I’ll get the champagne glasses out.”

Fred was kept happily busy for the next hour and had little chance to talk to Hermione about what had happened between them. There was tea and toast to make, plates to collect and wash and things to be carried for the midwives. Molly had him get the shower clean and nice for Angelina, and he was then charged with walking on Ange’s other side – just in case she felt woozy – as George helped her to the bathroom. Sally had used her wand to enlarge a bath towel so that it could wrap all the way around Ange’s body with the end tucked in between her legs. It wasn’t elegant, the midwife said, but it would make Ange feel secure enough to walk through the flat. Fred could hear Angelina telling George that she would only allow Fred to help if he promised never to mention her attire in the future. 

“I get it,” he said, holding up his right hand. “What happens in the birth flat stays in the birth flat. Assistant Midwife’s promise, I swear. Come on, love,” he offered her his arm. “Let me help escort you so Georgie can help you freshen up.”

After leaving the couple at the bathroom door and seeing that Molly was currently holding her granddaughter – so no chance of getting in there just yet, he realised – Fred went back to the kitchen. Hermione was back at the sink and he walked up behind her, winding one arm around her waist and using the other to move her hair so that he could kiss her neck. “I haven’t forgotten you, love,” he reassured her. “And I’d still love for you to stay the night … no pressure to do anything … will you think about it?” 

Hermione nodded. She could think of nothing she would rather do than spend the night in Fred’s arms, and she wasn’t at all averse to a bit more than kissing, if that’s what they both wanted. She needed to know whether he saw this as a fleeting distraction or something more, though. She didn’t think her heart could take it if she made love with him and then discovered that he wasn’t open to them becoming more than friends. She smiled to herself at the irony of the role reversal, as her own mind – and heart – were jittery and racing while Fred was now seemingly relaxed and full of the oxytocin that she had taught him about earlier in the day. 

She didn’t get the chance to answer him that time either, as the midwives were saying their goodbyes, promising to visit first thing in the morning and letting the new parents know that they could floo call them anytime in the night if they needed to. Entering the kitchen, Sally smilingly told Fred that it was his turn to properly visit the new family. 

“Finally!” He was back into George and Angelina’s bedroom in double quick time, keen as ever to hold his niece. Hermione followed, at a rather slower pace, to find Angelina was tucked up in a freshly made bed feeding her daughter with Molly offering the occasional word of encouragement from across the room. George sat on the quilt beside her, now dressed in a clean shirt and looking as proud as punch. Hermione smiled at the picture they made.

“I have a present for you,” Hermione told Angelina, passing over the red and gold hat that she had knitted.

“I helped make it,” Fred told her proudly.

“Yes, he did,” Hermione smiled. 

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” Angelina popped the tiny hat onto Roxanne’s head, and George laughed to see her, which startled Roxanne a bit. Angelina and Molly looked at each other and Molly shrugged; the child was going to need to get used to noise, like every other Weasley baby had had to.

“Can I have a hold now?” Fred was moving his weight from one foot to the other in anticipation, though much less slowly than when Hermione had arrived that morning.

“Sit down first, Fred,” Angelina told him. Having been dimly aware of his antics during the early part of her labour, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted her newborn to be bounced around by her excitable brother-in-law.

He obeyed, arranging his long legs underneath him in the low chair that sat in the corner of their bedroom. Fred held out his arms and Molly took the baby carefully from Angelina and stepped towards her son, handing his niece over and cautioning him to support her head.

Fred took the tiny baby in his arms and his eyes filled with tears. “Hello, love,” he said to the little girl. “I’m glad you got here OK. You were a long time coming.”

Molly and Hermione looked at each other and smiled wryly. Roxanne Weasley had actually taken a fairly average length of time to be born.

Fred used one finger to carefully stroke Roxanne’s soft red hair and gazed at her for several long minutes before he looked up again. There was silence in the room as everyone gave Fred the space and time to enjoy the moment he had been anticipating all day long. Then he looked up and surprised everyone.

“Marry me,” he said to Hermione. “Please marry me and have my babies. I want this with you, love.”

“Oh Godric, I was right,” Molly whispered under her breath to Ginny. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’ll pay you later; my purse is at home,” she groaned, smiling at her mum.

“Fred?” breathed Hermione. Her stomach had dropped at his words. In a good way. “What do you mean?” She knelt down in front of him, wondering if he was OK. They had exchanged their first kisses only a couple of hours before, and she hadn’t even known for sure whether it meant anything to him beyond being the product of the heat of the rather intense moment they were sharing.

“I know we’ve only just happened, love, but I’m never going to find a better witch for me than you.” He snuggled Roxanne gently into the crook of one long arm and reached for Hermione’s hand before looking at his family. “Am I? Really?” He looked around the room to see Molly, George and Ginny all shaking their heads and smiling. Angelina just looked a bit stunned; she had been too busy falling in love with her daughter to have realised that more falling in love had been happening during her birth. 

“You’re lovely,” he continued, stroking Hermione’s hand. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were lovely, but I didn’t see just how very lovely until today, and I had no idea you’d be interested in me. And now … you are … I think?”

Hermione nodded, whispering, “very much, Fred,” as he continued.

“And today you’ve been amazing. You’ve seen me at my worst, you made me feel better, you’ve helped me understand and calm down and actually be useful. I don’t think anyone else could have done that. We had fun,” he grinned widely. “And,” he gazed down at his niece, “this has put everything into perspective. I want to be with you. I want this with you, love,” he repeated, looking back into Hermione’s eyes.

Hermione smiled at him; she was so happy, but she couldn’t possibly miss the opportunity to tease the man who had spent so much of their youth teasing her. “You were a nervous wreck for most of the morning, Fred. How will you cope when you’re the dad-to-be?” 

Fred grinned. “Well I’ll have something to do then, won’t I? I’ll be the one who gets to do the kissing and bath running and massaging. Georgie can pace and go to Waitrose if he likes. He’s got a debit card too.”

Hermione tipped her head to one side. “There is that, I suppose.”

“So will you?”

“Marry you?”

He nodded; eyes still moving between Hermione and the baby who was happily snuggled in his arms. He wanted to look at them both so much and it was hard to tear his eyes from either.

“Isn’t it a bit sudden?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Sounds like you’ve liked me for a while. And it’s not like we’re strangers. We've known each other nearly half our lives.”

Hermione took her lip between her teeth, thinking. Fred knew better than to interrupt her pondering, but he decided to hand Roxanne back to Molly while he waited for her to consider her decision. There was a chance that he would need to sweep the clever little witch into a dramatic show of his affection if she agreed to have him. He gave his niece a tender, lingering kiss on her forehead and snuggled her more deeply into her new hat before passing her to his mum.

“Yes,” said Hermione, when he was done. “I’ll marry you, but there’s a condition.”

“Anything.” Fred leaned forward and took her other hand in his as well.

“I want the witch whose birth brought us together,” she indicated the youngest member of the Weasley family, “to be a flower girl at our wedding, so that means we’ll need to wait a couple of years until she can walk down the aisle with me. That’ll give you and I time to be together as a couple and we can make sure we work and that it’s not just your hormones!”

“It’s definitely not just my hormones,” Fred whispered into her ear, as he pulled Hermione onto his lap for a kiss. “But I accept your terms.”

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hermione didn’t go home that night. In fact, she didn’t go home until the next afternoon, and then it was just to feed and placate her cat and bring some clothes and toiletries back to the flat. She moved into Fred's room that evening, never slept another night at her own place and brought Crookshanks over the following week. Three weeks later, she brought everything else she owned over in a weekend and put her flat on the market. Hermione couldn't believe how fast it had all happened, but she wasn't ever sorry that she had plucked up the courage to tell Fred how she felt after loving him for all that time. 

Fred couldn't remember being happier. He had never imagined himself with Hermione but he couldn’t for the life of him work out why not. Whenever he said that to Hermione, she just told him that they had just needed to wait for the right time, and he liked that assessment. A month after they got together, he presented her with the first box of Healer Hermione's Comfrey Salve for St Mungos and took her out for a special dinner. In return, she took him back to Waitrose the next day so they could buy the ingredients to cook a special celebratory meal together for themselves, George and Ange. He was delighted to be in charge the trolley again but, having been allowed to take Roxanne with him in her baby seat, he agreed to push rather than ride it this time around.

Angelina and George were equally delighted with the second new addition to their household; not only did Hermione run Angelina daily bubble baths and hold the baby so she could enjoy them, but she knew just how thirsty breastfeeding witches got and would put the kettle on at even the merest hint of a snuffle from Roxanne. Angelina promised to return the favour when it was Hermione’s turn and joked that they needed to carefully stagger their future babies so that they could take turns pampering each other. George was happy that Fred had finally fallen in love, and even happier that it was with someone who they all already cared for. Not to mention the benefits that he suspected they would enjoy over the years from drawing on Hermione’s expertise when developing new WWW projects.

Molly and Ginny had returned to The Burrow sworn to secrecy about Fred and Hermione's news. So naturally Molly only told Arthur and Ginny only told Harry, who told Ron, who told the rest of his brothers, but everybody pretended to be surprised when Fred and Hermione turned up to Sunday dinner holding hands that week. Ginny paid over the five galleons and Molly used it to take her out for coffee so they could discuss the new development at length.

Ten and a half months later, Roxanne Weasley was thrilled when she pulled herself up onto a coffee table at The Burrow one lunchtime and took her first three steps across the living room floor before falling into her father’s outstretched arms. She clapped her hands together in glee and was pleased to find that her mum, dad, uncle, auntie and a horde of other relatives joined in to congratulate her achievement. That very same evening, Hermione accepted an engagement ring which Fred had placed in her wine glass during the family’s Sunday dinner.

And two weeks before her second birthday, Roxanne served as flower girl to her Uncle Fred and Auntie Miney as the pair stood together in the garden of The Burrow and said the vows that would bind their lives together. She watched their wedding from her dad’s arms and helped him pass over the rings. Roxanne didn’t know it then, but the happy couple were already growing her a baby cousin who would be born in the very same flat into which she had entered the world. Though her Uncle Fred would be much calmer this time round.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and reviews ... it's great to know people are enjoying this and it really helps to inspire me to write more quickly! :-)


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